


One Of Those Nights...And Mornings

by Mellie_Art



Series: Red Ties [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, and I say let them, not much in the way of feelings either, seriously there’s NO plot here, they just wanna drink have fun and fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:02:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25529353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellie_Art/pseuds/Mellie_Art
Summary: It’s been a while since John enjoyed a morning/afternoon/early evening (what is the time, anyway?) like this and he really should treat himself to them more often
Relationships: John Constantine/Joker (DCU)
Series: Red Ties [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978870
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42





	One Of Those Nights...And Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> It’s rushed and barely edited and there’s no plot whatsoever but there _is_ porn so that’s something at least right? 
> 
> (One day I’ll give into the angst monster with these two but for now I just wanna let them have fun for a bit longer)

It’d been one of  _ those nights_. John knows this because when he eventually opens his eyes the next day, it takes him several long minutes to remember where he is. And, even then, he barely recognises the place. It’s a hotel room, he knows that much, one much nicer than he usually goes for if the lack of ground in stains on the carpet is anything to go by. But how the hell _ he  _ would end up booking a room like this, one he definitely can’t afford, he can’t remember - and can’t be bothered to try. That’s something for future John to worry about. 

For now, he needs more shut eye and rolls onto his side, his arm hitting something warm and bony. Hopefully something human. He opens his eyes to check (doesn’t hurt to, it was one hell of a bender) and is confronted with white and green, and it takes his brain an embarrassing amount of time to catch up. But when it does…

John sighs, feeling his lips curve into a small smile as the memories hit. 

Yeah, one  _ hell _ of a bender.

Judging by the stillness, Joker must be asleep, which is new. He doesn’t usually stick around, preferring to let silly little notes say his goodbyes for him, but that only goes to show the kind of night they had. John doesn’t mind, it's nice to wake up to a full bed sometimes, although he does wonder what sort of mood Joker’ll be in when he wakes up. Hopefully a good one, it’s not like John left him wanting last night (he’s pretty sure Joker paid for the room and it was only right John pay him back in kind), but he’s not going to risk waking Joker up before he’s ready. No matter how tempting it might be to give that pasty little ass a smack.

Instead, he decides to hunt down a much-needed cigarette and carefully climbs off the bed to find his coat. It’s no smoking here - like every-fucking-where these days - but John doesn’t care. No one’s gonna notice one little ciggy. 

As he lights and then takes that first blissful inhale, he takes in the state of the room. There are food packets and empty bottles everywhere, as well as a curtain toggle that looks suspiciously... _sticky_. John grins again. They’d had a lot of fun with that. The candles, too, an impulse buy on their way here, which lie scattered around the wooden chair in the corner. 

Joker had enjoyed that in particular. Tied to the chair, John’s tie covering his eyes, arching and bending his body as John dripped hot wax all over him. He’d come without John even having to touch him. 

John’s body stirs at the memory and he walks back to the bed and, as he lies down, sees Joker’s arm sticking out from underneath the pillow. John’s tie is still wrapped around the wrist. Apparently the satiny fabric felt good against Joker’s skin, although the bruises left behind won’t. At least they wouldn’t for John, but Joker likes that sort of thing. Good job, really, because his body’s covered in them. 

It’s not until John’s finished his cigarette and plans to go back to sleep that Joker stirs. His fingers wiggle and he breathes in deep, and his back rolls, bones popping with the motion. Then he stretches his entire body, showing off sharp ribs and spine and then, finally, he turns his head.

“G’mrngng.”

John assumes Joker means  _ good morning _ and smiles.

“Think it’s long past that, love, but, yeah, same to you.”

Joker buries his face in the pillow, shoulders hunching as he yawns. His hair is one big, fluffy green cloud, sticking out in every direction and John can’t help smiling, if only to mask how disarming it is to see someone like him so, well,  _ normal_. Or, as normal as the Joker can ever be. 

His mood seems okay, so far anyway, so John risks resting a finger on Joker’s shoulder and runs it down his back. It sends a small shudder along Joker’s body and he hums before his face emerges from the pillow again, eyes still closed, mouth fixed in a lazy grin.

“Do it again,” he says, voice husky and thick with sleep.

John does, hand running back up and then down, earning another shudder, and he decides to keep going, watching as Joker’s face goes slack and his breath comes just a little bit harder. 

John’s never known anyone so receptive to touch and it’s been _ a lot _ of fun to play with. 

Joker slides closer, wanting more, until he’s pressed against John and kisses along his jaw to his lips. John opens his mouth, letting Joker’s tongue slip inside.

“Naughty boy,” Joker murmurs between kisses. “Smoking’s a filthy habit, y’know.”

“We’ve done a lot filthier,” John replies, which earns a giggle and then a lot more kissing and touching, John’s hand moving further down Joker’s body, getting a good handful of his ass before moving Joker’s thigh to hook over his hip. He can feel Joker already boasting a semi, pressing into his stomach, and as Joker slides his hand into John’s hair, the tie on his wrist brushes over John’s skin and thoughts of makeshift bondage and bruises lead John’s hand to the mark on Joker’s hip.

John presses his thumb firmly against the bruise and Joker gasps into his mouth, hips jerking almost reflexively. John grins, pleased with the reaction and does it again. And again. And again, again, again and Joker’s gasps become moans, hips starting to move in time with the press of John’s hand, kisses growing deeper and more desperate as John’s touch gets harder and harder. 

He could probably make Joker come like this. It’s tempting to try. But Joker, apparently, has other ideas as he rolls them over until he’s on his back and spreads his legs to let John slot between them. Holding John’s hand on his hip in place, he takes the other and slides two of John’s fingers into his mouth, licking and sucking them before guiding the hand down.

“In,” he demands and who is John to argue? Sitting back on his knees, he pushes Joker’s legs further apart and presses one finger to Joker’s entrance, teases it, his other hand continuing to press the bruise on Joker’s hip. 

He slides his first finger in as he presses hard on the bruise and it’s not smooth going in but from the sound Joker makes, it must feel good. John let’s him adjust and then pushes in a second but stops when he hears Joker hiss.

“Sore?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Joker says, breathless. “Keep going.”

John hesitates. He knows Joker likes pain, knows how well he can take it, but, still... 

“Don’t make me beg, John,” Joker says, voice low, eyes bright. 

Despite the tone, John wouldn’t mind making him beg...again. But maybe another time. For now, he starts moving his fingers, scissoring, working Joker open and Joker tips his head back, mouth falling open, endless moans falling out as he moves his hips to take John’s fingers in as deep as he can. When John reaches Joker’s prostate, he digs his nails hard into the bruise and Joker -

“ _Oh!_ ” 

_There we go_ , and John hits it over and over, three fingers now, pushing in right up to the knuckles, listening to Joker’s voice break, watching his body shudder and writhe, Joker’s nails scratching desperately at John’s arms. His cock is leaking, aching to be touched and John would but both his hands are busy and Joker doesn’t seem to be in any hurry for John to stop. Besides, Joker’s got a couple of free hands, he can take care of that. 

And, soon enough, he does, taking himself in hand to stroke in time with the rhythm John’s set. The sight is enough to make John want to touch his own cock but it can wait. Joker’s close, panting, stroking faster, clamouring at the sheets and John can’t help himself. He dips his head down and bites Joker’s hip as hard as he can. Joker cries out and then falls silent as he comes, spilling over his stomach and hand, some hitting John’s shoulder. John sucks at the skin, fingers still moving, working Joker through his orgasm, enjoying every broken sound Joker makes. 

“S-stop, stop,” Joker eventually begs, voice barely even a whisper and John (eventually) does, slowly pulling his fingers out as he places a kiss to the bite mark on Joker’s hip.

Straightening up, John takes a minute to look at Joker, see the mess he’s made of him. White skin is flushed a pale pink, silvery scars glistening in the light as his chest rises and falls, as the muscles in his stomach tremble. He looks almost vulnerable like this. John likes it - very much.

Joker’s eyes are shut, and his mouth, swollen from kisses and his own bites, is far too inviting and John kisses his way up Joker’s body towards it, taking a quick detour to tease one of the nipples with his tongue. Joker enjoys that, slides his hand into John’s hair and pushes up against him for more.

It’s been a while since John enjoyed a morning/afternoon/early evening (what  _ is  _ the time, anyway?) like this and he really should treat himself to them more often.

“John,” Joker breathes, tugging at John’s hair to pull John’s mouth away from his nipple and cradles his face. “C’mere.”

John continues moving up and is pulled into deep, slow kisses and gets so lost in them that he doesn’t feel Joker’s hand moving down his body until fingers wrap around his cock. After the build up, the relief is blissful and he moans into Joker’s mouth as Joker’s hand starts to move. Slow and firm at first, thumbing the tip, spreading pre cum, Joker soon picks up the pace to leave John panting into the crook of his neck. Whispering sweet, filthy little nothings into John’s ear, describing all the things he’d like done to him next time, what he’d like to do to  _ John_, and, Jesus, if John wasn’t already close to coming, picturing all of that would’ve got him there. 

“That’s it, honey, come on,” Joker coos, scratching his nails through John’s hair and, in a case of getting a taste of his own medicine, John feels sharp teeth sink deep into his shoulder, which pushes him over the edge to come into Joker’s hand. 

It’s a rush, the pain fuelling the pleasure and Joker doesn’t release John’s shoulder or stop pumping his cock until John’s taken well past the point of oversensitivity. 

When it’s over, John rests on top of Joker, feeling warm and boneless and slightly off kilter. Joker runs his tongue up John’s neck to his ear, which sends a shiver down John’s spine and whispers something but it doesn’t register. Then John hears a sucking sound and turns his head just enough to see Joker licking the cum off his hand. 

“Gross,” John mumbles but doesn’t mean it. Quite the opposite, actually, which Joker knows because the sucking sounds get louder.

Eventually, John rolls onto his back and lets out a very deep and satisfied sigh. He wants to fall asleep again but reckons if they haven’t already overstayed, they’re soon going to. 

“S’pose we’d better get our arses in gear,” he mutters.

Joker presses a hand to John’s chest to hold him down. “Nope. We can take our time. The staff and I have an understanding.”

John doesn’t want to know what that means, he’s just glad he doesn’t have to move yet and closes his eyes as Joker curls up beside him.

-

“Wow, Johnny boy, you really went to town, huh?” 

John emerges from the bathroom, wrapping a towel around his waist, to see Joker naked and still damp from their shower, inspecting himself in the full length mirror. 

“You asked for it - literally.”

“That I did,” Joker grins, meeting John’s eye in his reflection. “And I thank you for it.”

John rolls his eyes at the kiss blown his way and starts hunting for his clothes. The room is still a tip and he pities the poor bugger that’ll have to clean it up. 

“It’s a shame you can’t stay,” Joker says, walking over to the chair and pulling it back to its rightful place in front of the dressing table where an array of makeup and hair products is laid out. That particular space was out of bounds last night. “I’m sure I can wangle us one more night here.”

“I’m sure you can but duty calls, I’m afraid.” John shrugs on his coat and fishes in one of the pockets for his lighter and an almost empty pack of cigarettes. Hmm. Gonna have to fix that. “Rain check?”

“Your loss.” Joker turns to the mirror and starts combing his hair.

_ Maybe_, John thinks and smiles to himself. But even if he didn’t have to work, he wouldn’t stay. It’d be all too easy to get sucked into Joker’s orbit - or worse, for Joker to get sucked into _ his _ \- and it's better for both of them if they avoid it. 

After a last scan of the room to check he hasn’t forgotten anything, John walks over to Joker and leans down to press a kiss to his cheek. Except Joker grabs his shirt to turn it into the sort of kiss that  _ almost  _ makes John change his mind about staying.

“I take it you’re keeping the tie,” he says, eyeing it on the bed.

“Yep!” Joker replies and pushes John away. “Now go. Save the world or whatever and gimme a call when you’re next in these parts.”

“Will do, squire.”

At the door, John takes one last look at Joker, who’s absolute focus is now fixed on his own reflection, and smiles to himself once more before closing the door quietly behind him.

Clowns. 

  
  



End file.
